


stay, stay at home, my heart, and rest

by queensimmons



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Accidents, Confessions, Dancing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Temporary Amnesia, call it bittersweet, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 04:04:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9417731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queensimmons/pseuds/queensimmons
Summary: "Fitz," came a small voice. "Do you...I just...do you still love me the same?"Fitz removed his arm from Jemma's waist and instead held her shoulder. He looked into her tired eyes and gave her a questioning look. Maybe he had miss heard.She took a shuddering breath. "I mean...before...before all of this, before what happened to me. Do you still...miss her?"Fitz gulped and sat straight upright. He turned his body to face her but avoided her desperate eyes."Wha-what do you mean?" Fitz asked.He knew exactly what she meant.FitzSimmons + Dance with me





	

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place sometime before season 4. 
> 
> "A short little drabble," I said. "It won't be anything big." I said. Ugh, I haven't written in forever but I had to push myself to do it today and wow this is longer than my 500 words limit.
> 
> Unbeta-ed. All mistakes are mine.

_"Just dance with me until this hell of me burns a little less._

_Dance with me until this smile I wear like a mask,_

_doesn't feel like such a heavy burden._

_Dance with me..._

_Just dance with me until I forget_

_who I really am."_

* * *

Between the acceleration of the cars and the severity of the impact, the emergency paramedics worked in shock. They had never come across a crash to this degree with any breathing survivors.

It took hours upon hours but eventually, the firefighters and police officers pulled the only survivor from the rubble. With her hair gone limp and skin pale, vibrant red blood splattered across her face. Blood oozed from her arms and thighs. Microscopic shards of debris covered her skin, fell into her cuts, and hid in her hair. A large gash made itself present in her left thigh, ripping the lining of her jeans and tearing through her muscle to where the white of her bone became visible.

Her heart was unstable. It would beat rapidly then, almost not at all. She was airlifted to the nearest hospital before immediately whisked away into surgery.

Six hours, fifty-six minutes, and twenty-two seconds later, a nurse walked out into the congested waiting room. She turned to face a variety of people with varying reactions. An older man and women stood next to each other, the man holding a foam cup filled with coffee listening while the woman quietly read from a file.

A tall blonde skimmed through a trashy fashion magazine, leg bouncing violently as she attempted to avoid conversation with the shorter man at her side. She was trying to mask her worry. Between the few people sitting in the room, the nurse immediately spotted the nervous wreck.

He sat on a separate couch, a young woman with short dark hair laced her arm around him. They both had tears streaming down their faces, the woman spoke to the man in soft tones, her face drained of emotion except for the small frown and slight furrow of her eyebrows giving away any indicator that she was anything other than exhausted.

As she spoke, the man at her side repeatedly shook his head. Like a broken record, he muttered the same few words over and over again.

"It's my fault."

He held his face in his shaky hands, his jaw aligned with scruff slipped frequently as floods of tears moved them. The blonde woman was the first person to notice the nurse's presence. She cleared her throat loudly, causing everyone to look up and the man in distress to wipe his face.

The nurse spoke apologetically to the group, eyes down, faced forward, as she gave the diagnosis. The room shuddered a breath of relief when the RN announced Jemma would live, but a sharp intake of air caught in their throats as she ran down the list of things the patient suffered, what they could fix, and the things they couldn't.

All Fitz heard was that she's far from okay but she's alive and that's all that mattered to him. We can deal with the after effects later he told himself. She's alive and that's all that matters right?

Weeks later, Jemma woke up from her coma with nothing but fragments for memories and the inability to speak correctly. Her words slurred and she often found herself stuttering. Bradycardia left her heart beat permanently irregular and slowed to the point where doctors debated whether or not it was necessary to perform heart surgery and bind Jemma to an artificial pacemaker. Fortunately, the scientist's heart healed itself and the doctors repeatedly assured that any other problems involving memory loss and impaired speech were temporary.

Three months passed since she was released from the hospital and the injuries did not seem temporary. The team began to worry.

While Jemma's left frontal lobe healed so did her speech, but her memory and heart rate grew increasingly worse.

The team found out the hard way after she moved back to the base. Coulson's team was called to a meeting and against Mays word, the director brought Jemma on board the mission. Coulson didn't dare assign her to go out into the field but she was summoned to speak directions into the earpiece and watch the monitors. It seemed simple enough until she began to feel her heart clench mid order. She was rushed to the medical bay immediately, leaving Bobbi to take her place with the head set.

They handled her with caution, especially since she was continuously growing at a higher risk for a heart attack. After they treated her, Fitz came to sit by her side in the med bay. She sat on one of the gurneys kicking her feet. Fitz took her hand in his and asked her what happened and how was she feeling. To his horror, only to hear she didn't remember anything.

"This has got to be a mistake!" He exclaimed to one of the doctors. Bobbi trailed not far behind.

"The doctors, they said she would get better but she's not," he nearly shouted. "She only seems to get worse."

The doctor stayed silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. Eventually, he opened his mouth to speak. His voice wavered as he told the worrying man that in regards to her heart, she's making significant progress. The engineers steely blue eyes narrowed. They both knew this wasn't in reference to her heart.

With caution, the doctor proceeded.

"It appears her temporal lobe may take longer to recover, sir."

Fitz stepped closer to the doctor, leaving him to feel incredibly small under the engineers gaze.

"How much longer?" Fitz asked. His voice no longer held any anger, just exhaustion, and worry. He sounded much like a sad puppy, lost and alone, looking for answers.

The doctor gulped. "We...we don't know. Um, sir."

Bobbi held Fitz back before he destroyed everything in the lab.

* * *

Days turned to weeks and weeks transformed into a month. By now, Fitz and Simmons moved off base and into a small apartment not far from headquarters. Jemma's heart was now stable but in addition to losing memories, her brain often denied her the ability to form new ones.

Fitz fiddled around in the laboratory he installed in their spare room for hours.

Daisy had asked for new gauntlets earlier in the week and Coulson requested certain upgrades for his hand. He had blindly agreed to both, not realizing the amount of time it took to design and build either of them.

Night fell over the sky before Fitz realized. He glanced at his watch and checked the time.

8:57

He was supposed to meet them over an hour ago. Fitz took off his gloves and shook his head. There was no point in leaving now.

Disposing of the rubber material, Fitz made his way down the hall to Jemma's room. The door was open and she sat by the bay window. He knocked not to startle her. Ever so slowly, she withdrew her attention from the sky and smiled at him, patting the seat next to her as an invitation.

"It's so beautiful, isn't it?" she awed, gesturing to the night sky. "The moon and the stars, they're all so lovely."

Fitz took a seat next to her and hummed in agreement. It seemed like every day, Jemma found something new to be fascinated about. The sunrise, the sunset, stars, the moon, rocks, people, plants, animals, silver ware. Fitz enjoyed watching her hazel eyes light up at the smallest things but it also pained him to know that every day, it was unlikely she would remember it. Remember him. Hope was slowly draining from veins as the days passed. The engineer often found himself wondering what exactly Jemma did remember. What did she think of him?

Did she remember the days at the academy? All the time spent in Star Wars pajamas cramming for finals? Did she remember Ward and Trip? The hate, betrayal, and sorrow that came from working with SHIELD?

Did she remember _him_?

The moments they shared?

The sacrifices they made?

The feelings they felt?

Or was everything foreign to her and she was just playing along?

The slight pressure of Jemma's head leaning on Fitz's shoulder snapped him out of his daze. She pulled her knees to her chest and exhaled a content sigh as she snuggled into the cavity in his side.

Clearly, some things never change.

Fitz rested his arm around her, pulling her in close. She placed a hand on his chest and let his radiating heart beat send electrifying pulses through her fingertips.

They stayed in that comfortable position for a while, listening to the soft jazz that played from the record player. The questions in Fitz's head were to be forgotten and the persistent feeling of dread to simmered quietly. A sense of unease still lingered in the air. Before she could stop herself, Jemma spoke:

"Fitz," came a small voice. "Do you...I just...do you still love me the same?"

Fitz removed his arm from Jemma's waist and instead held her shoulder. He looked into her tired eyes and gave her a questioning look. Maybe he had miss heard.

She took a shuddering breath. "I mean...before...before all of this, before what happened to me. Do you still...miss her?"

Fitz gulped and sat straight upright. He turned his body to face her but avoided her desperate eyes.

"Wha-what do you mean?" Fitz asked.

He knew exactly what she meant.

Jemma suddenly felt small. 

"I...I mean that, clearly I'm not the same girl I was six months ago and...and everyone keeps telling me of this magnificent woman who existed within me. Someone brilliant and kind. A woman a part of an iconic duo," her voice quivered and hushed to a whisper. "Someone worth fighting for."

Fitz could feel tears prickle at the back of his eyes and heat rising in his throat. He fiddled with his hands as he listened to her. Ever since the accident, things had been difficult to say the least. FitzSimmons had started to move forward in their romantic relationship, but life seemed to toss challenge after challenge, hurdle after hurdle at them. Jemma hardly recovered from spending six months alone on an alien planet. Her mind had yet to recover from the isolation. Her body also was in the process of healing after being forced to work with Ward. Being used as leverage against Fitz, her fractured rips and deep emotional scars had yet to heal. 

Fitz thought about that day when Ward dropped them into the ocean. How he confessed his love and sacrificed himself to avoid losing her.

He thought about how he lost her anyway. Nine days unconscious, only being able to hear the mumbles of her voice. Hardly feeling memories that escaped her eyes in the form of tears and splashed on this numb skin. He woke up to find her there. She was always there. But then she wasn't.

Fitz thought about the day he watched and re-watched and re-watched an alien rock liquify and engulf his best friend. The memories collected over her six month absence became a blur of tears, exhaustion, and pain, pain, pain.

Fitz thought about when Ward kidnapped them. Again. And how he was forced to hear Jemma's painful screams from down the hall. The fear in her voice as she begged him not to go, the relief in her shoulders when he came back. 

Fitz thought about the car crash. 

No one actually knows what happened that night. It was a blur of lights and pleading for everyone. It was the night Fitz lost Jemma.

Again.

A pattern began to reveal itself and a light finally turned on in Fitz's head. Fitz was dragged out of this thoughts as a chilly absence laid at his side. 

"You know what, I'm being silly aren't I?" Jemma rambled getting up. "This is all ridiculous, just forget I said anything. This is so silly. I won't even remember in th-" she was cut off by the touch of a rough, calloused hand. Fitz stood and walked over to her side. He took his hand and gently tilted her chin up, using his thumb to wipe her tears. 

"Jemma," he whispered, voice thick. "You're not being ridiculous. I have...lost...you so many times. So many. Many of which you won't remember and that's okay. Because every time...every time I lose you, you always come back to me. You're just different now, and there's nothing wrong with that."

"But you lose me everyday," she croaked. "I hate hurting you."

"Jemma, you could never hurt me."

Jemma forced herself to look up, surprised to see tears streaming down his cheeks, a genuine smile plastered across his face. A hiccup escaped Jemma's lips and she slammed her head into Fitz's shoulder. He stroked her hair as she cried and when her tears drowned out, she was left there to sway in his arms, nothing but the soft sound of sweet jazz ricocheting off the walls. 

The two began to dance, slowly. Jemma in nothing but a T-shirt and some sweats and Fitz in his work attire. He never realized how long they had been walking on eggshells till now. Their bodies moved slowly together, occasionally daring a spin. It was like it was just them in the world, the way it was, the way it should be. 

"You know, we didn't even eat dinner yet," Fitz murmured against her ear. "And to think, I went grocery shopping today."

A small giggled escaped from Jemma's throat. "Well, I'm sure it's far too late to eat now," she joked. "And I..I don't want to let go."

"Then don't. We'll dance until you can recognize the photos on the wall." 

Jemma released a breathy smile as he spun her around. "And what if I don't remember?" she said.

Fitz pulled Jemma back in close and she rested her head on his shoulder. "Then I'll have to forget."

The two swayed along to the music, with each pluck of the bass and each blow of the saxophone, Jemma began to grow tired. 

When she grew heavy in his arms, Fitz tested her will by pulling back. Her fingers curled around the sleeve of his shirt. She wasn't ready to let go, not yet. 

"Stay."

And stay he did.

**Author's Note:**

> undercovermarvelgeek on tumblr
> 
> Poem by Stephaine Bennett-Henry
> 
> Title from the poem 'Song' by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


End file.
